


break the line

by frausorge



Series: our own device [3]
Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: M/M, San Jose Sharks, Toronto Maple Leafs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-04
Updated: 2017-10-04
Packaged: 2019-01-08 23:35:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 603
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12264375
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/frausorge/pseuds/frausorge
Summary: After Pat hangs up the phone, he picks up his car keys and heads directly over to Joe's house.





	break the line

After Pat hangs up the phone, he picks up his car keys and heads directly over to Joe's house. He rings the doorbell and rubs his palms against his thighs.

Joe opens the door and his mouth curls up. "All set?" he says.

Pat steps inside but stops just past the threshold. "Yes," he says. "Look, I-" 

"I told you," Joe says over him. "I told you already, last year, and I meant it. Do what you need to. Nothing's changed."

"I want to play," Pat says, the easiest of all the things he could say. "To keep playing as long as I can."

"I know," Joe says. He steps closer and sets a hand at Pat's waist. Pat closes his eyes and lifts his head to meet Joe's lips. It's an offseason kiss, calm and unhurried. Joe brings one hand up to cup the nape of Pat's neck.

Pat's breathing harder than he should be when Joe draws back. Joe reaches down and circles his fingers around Pat's wrist. Pat bites his lip and lets Joe lead him toward the back of the house.

Joe pulls his T-shirt over his head and steps out of his shorts as they move down the hallway. When they reach the bedroom he turns and raises his eyebrows. Pat hesitates a minute longer. Joe huffs and steps close enough to reach for the hem of Pat's shirt.

Joe pauses for a moment himself, though, once Pat is on his hands and knees on the bed. Pats lets his head drop down between his arms, listening for Joe's breaths. He feels Joe's palms brushing over the backs of his thighs, and the dull ache as Joe presses against last week's mark. Then Joe bends down to set his teeth just next to where his thumb is digging into Pat's skin.

After some time Joe moves his fingers up to rub and tug at Pat's rim. Pat shifts his weight on the mattress and rolls his shoulders. His dick bobs between his legs, but Joe ignores it, using both hands to spread Pat open instead. Pat sighs as Joe's thumbs press insistently at his hole, and gasps when he feels the softer drag of Joe's tongue.

 

The afternoon sun streaming through the window is lighting up the little pile of pucks on top of Joe's dresser. Pat spends some time trying to make out the writing on the strips of tape wrapped around them.

Faces swim up in front of him: Doug on a conference call in his office. Reech, Mush, and Sunny bent over their tablets. Mac and Bakes with their microphones. Nabby bending down to Joner's ear. Dan holding a can of teal-coloured paint. 

Pat slides out from under Joe's arm and goes into the bathroom to clean up. 

He looks over his shoulder at his reflection in the mirror. If he angles his head the right way he can see the yellow-green of the old bruise and the blooming red of the new one. Below that his skin stretches fresh and clear down to his knee.

When Pat comes back into the bedroom, Joe is sitting up against the headboard.

"Call me if you need anything," Joe says. 

"Ah, thank you," Pat says.

"It's like I said," Joe tells him. "This doesn't change anything."

Pat presses his lips together. "Goodbye, Joe," he says.

"See ya," Joe answers.

In the hallway Pat stumbles over Joe's shirt still lying crumpled on the floor. The white points of the shark's teeth glint in the light falling on its folds. Pat shudders and lifts his foot to step clear.


End file.
